“Hey, El!” Quinn yells, shutting off the ignition, jumping down, and running over to give him a hug.
“Hey Quinn,” he says, giving her a big bear hug. “Oh, howdy, Leighton,” he says when I open the door and jump down. “Didn’t believe Clay one bit when he told me he was finally gettin’ his baby sister come to the bonfire. Hellfire, this is gonna be great. He’s gonna shit a brick when he sees what you’re wearin’, Quinn.”
She laughs, swatting him on his shoulder and giving him her best innocent smile. Predictably, Elliott blushes from the roots of his red hair all the way to his freckled chest. I’m not sure he ever wears a shirt, which is ridiculous since he spends the summer months burned to a crisp.
“Jesus Christ, Leighton,” he grumbles and his eyes travel down my body. God, I knew this outfit was a mistake.
“Does she look good or what, El?”
He nods, his eyes on my legs. “Or what, for sure, sugar. Damn, Leigh, you’ve been holdin’ out on me.” He reaches his hand down and adjusts his crotch. “You’ve got how many years until you’re eighteen?”
“Oh, gross, El!” Quinn laughs and smacks his arm, reaching over to grab my hand and pull me behind her as we walk to the back of her truck to pull the tailgate down.
“Two years, Leighton, you come find ol’ Elliott in two years,” he calls out after us, his laughter trailing off as he disappears into the woods that line the Davis’s back pasture.
Quinn rolls her eyes. “God, he’s such a pig. Ever since Jamie O’Neal broke up with him he’s been like a bull in heat.”
I laugh, but don’t respond. Quinn jumps up and sits on her tailgate. Not wanting to look like an idiot, I just lean back and cross my arms over my chest and take in everything around us.
The bonfires that Clay has become notorious for have always been off-limits to us, but then again, we just recently turned sixteen, and Quinn decided it was high time we find out whether the rumors are to be believed. Since Clay graduated almost four years ago, a lot of the crowd is his age. The rest are friends of Maverick. They let some kids our age come, but for the most part, everyone is eighteen to twenty-two.
The Davis family owns almost two hundred acres, so it’s easy to get away with these things. No one ever comes out this way since the entire east end of their property is mainly tree-lined, with the exception of this field. I know Clay comes out here with the tractor and clears it out just for the bonfires, and he personally cleared the trail for trucks to get back here himself. Then again, his father is usually passed out drunk by dinnertime anyway, so even if he knew about these things, he wouldn’t do anything to shut them down.
I look around and see coolers scattered throughout the field, at least one every other truck or so. All the trucks are parked in a circle with the blazing fire in the center, tailgates down and people either sitting on them or in chairs closer to the fire.
Clay and Maverick’s trucks are on either side of Quinn’s, a spot they clearly left open just for her. Both tailgates down, but empty. I push off from where I had been resting and walk over to the cooler next to Clay’s truck and grab two Bud Lights, handing one to Quinn before I pop the top on my own and take a huge swallow.
“Don’t even think about it, Quinn.”
I laugh to myself and bring the can back up to my lips, but end up wearing the swallow I had been about to take when the can is ripped from my hands and foam sprays all over my face. “Hey!” I yell and turn around.
“Hey to you too, sugar.” Clay laughs and brings my stolen can to his lips, downing the whole thing in one go before crunching the can in his hand and throwing it over his shoulder into the bed of his truck. “Just because I said it was cool if y’all came doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you two get drunk. No fuckin’ way.” He gives me a brief hug before moving to give his sister one, kissing her forehead on a laugh when she gives his gut a weak punch.
“One beer isn’t gettin’ drunk, Clayton Davis,” Quinn snaps.
“You aren’t drinkin’, babe. End of story.”
“Whatever, Dad,” she snaps, knowing he hates it when she calls him that. Doesn’t stop him from acting like it constantly, though. Clay is more protective of her than her own father anyway.
Quinn jumps down from her truck and pointedly turns her back on her older brother. “Come on, Leigh, let’s go dance.”
I look over and give Clay a shrug and wave as Quinn drags me over to where Brant Weaton is parked. He’s got all the doors open in his truck and the music is blaring, creating a little makeshift dance area in front of it.
I’m not sure how long we dance and laugh with the others around us, but when we stop the sun has long since disappeared behind the trees and everything around us is lit by the fire only. The crowd has grown considerably since we arrived, topping out around a hundred or so. Probably because graduation was yesterday, and people are looking for a party.
That sobering thought takes all the lighthearted fun right out of my sails when I remember the whole reason that Quinn pushed her brother into letting us come.
“Hey, Q! I’m going to go to the little girls’ room!” I yell over the Toby Keith song that we’ve been dancing to.
“Kay, I’ll be here when you’re done. Make sure and grab the bathroom stuff out of my truck.”
I give her a nod and take over toward her truck. I’m no stranger to peeing in the middle of nowhere, but it still sucks to be clomping through the woods in the middle of the night and not being able to see where you’re going.
I smile as people call out my name, giving a few waves, but keep heading toward Quinn’s truck. The groups of people talking, laughing, and drinking are now edging from the circle of trucks surrounding the bonfire and taking up almost the whole pasture.
“Where are you headed off to, sweetheart?”
I stop dead in my tracks.
“He-hey, John.”
He steps out of the shadows by Quinn’s truck and walks over to me, tugging at the collar of my shirt. “You sure do look pretty, darlin’.”
Thank God it’s dark. I can feel my cheeks heating and I just know that my blush is turning every inch of my skin bright red. John Lewis is one of the most popular boys in school and I know for a fact that he’s got a girlfriend. But I also know he’s got a reputation for not staying true to his girlfriend. That being said, he’s never exactly shown attention to a girl like me, so I’m about to come out of my skin I’m so nervous.
“Tha-thanks.”
He laughs. “Where you headed?” he asks again.
I clear my throat. “Pit stop in the woods.” God, this is mortifying. I hate how I turn into an awkward mute full of nerves any time a hot boy talks to me.